The Fires of Summer (first draft)

Smock wakes up to the sound of voices. When his eyes clear of their hazy blur, he looks out of the little hole in the side, wondering if he's managed to sleep through being taken to the shore, but instead he sees the same wooden wall of the galleon, and immediately he's thrust into complete awareness. He's still holding the bottle, so he tightens his hand around it.

"Yes, that's the one, sir," he hears a man's voice.

The one that replies is very familiar, and Smock suddenly feels very cold. "Alright. Draw your weapons."

He hadn't noticed anyone with weapons the night before. Dammit, why can't anything go my way?

The chest's lid is lifted open, and immediately Smock springs to action. He smashes the bottle into the nearest person's face, glass shattering and falling all around them, embedding itself in the man's face. He immediately recognises the face of the poor guy he'd stolen his coat from, though he doesn't look as good as usual, with blood coming from his face and all.

"Sir Lukas, right?" Smock greets him. "It's been a hot minute."

The other men press forth, and Lukas pulls the glass from his face with a groan. Instead of punching Smock in the face like he'd expected, the knight swings for his arm, dislodging the makeshift weapon and leaving him unarmed.

Smock finds himself cornered, but he makes a dash for the door anyway, only for strong arms to grasp him and hold him in place. "Nowhere for you to go, stowaway - we're not there yet."

"Your ship must be real lousy if it's takin' so long to get across a bay," he bites back, but he gains no reaction, only a disappointed sigh.

"We're in no rush, especially now we have to figure out what to do with you," Lukas begins to drag him out of the door, and for once he doesn't fight, knowing he's got little chance of getting very far like this. He thinks for a moment about making a run from the edge of the ship, but he can't stomach the thought of being submerged again.

Smock's hands are cuffed and he's made to sit with his back against the railing of the ship, watched by two men. He stares at his feet, unable to look up at the sails, wondering what could have happened to tip someone off to him being in the chest. It's not like anyone could see that the valuables were moved, and Smock has never known himself to be a noisy sleeper. Even then, he'd not even had a nightmare, nor been asleep for very long.

He thinks about the coat long and hard. It's still on him, but he's sure as soon as they take him for proper punishment he'll end up without it, and that simply does not feel like an option. He's grown attached to it, and it's survived everything he's been through with Dawn, not to mention that it's really useful with all its pockets and lends perfectly to his aesthetic. It'd be too much of a shame to lose it now, and slowly that becomes one of his biggest motivations to get the fuck out of here.

Soon the bells are rung on the ship to indicate they're docking, and Smock is pulled to his feet. He waits and watches as everyone but his guards start to work the ship. They're nowhere near as efficient as pirates, but they get the job done.

Smock watches as they tether the ship to the dock. Some guards are waiting there and wave them in to throw down their ropes. Once the boat is still, Smock is dragged forth by Lukas before anyone starts to unload the cargo, and presented to two guards. One of them is much larger than the other, and something about them feels terribly wrong. Swiftly he understands that this is his last chance to get out.

Just as Lukas is describing his numerous crimes (the most elaborate one being the coat theft) Smock makes a run for it. He's got no clue how to get around the city, but as he looks around he sees that it's a neat town with even rows of buildings, elegant in appearance. Most buildings are made of stone and wood, and some places sit on a gradual upward slant that ends at the castle, which stands proud at the bottom of Wolf's Reach.

The guards are descending upon him fast. He turns into an alley and then another, then emerges again into another street. It's much like the first, but one building catches his eye: a smithy, with a glow emanating from inside. He surely won't have time to get the cuffs fully removed, but he can at least get the chain severed.

Swift as a bird he pushes through the door. There's a man working on what appears to be a shield, and at the sudden entry looks up in shock. "Can I help you?"

Smock approaches quickly, holding out his hands. "I need these off, now."

The man takes a deep breath. "I'm occupied right now, could you wait-"

"Unless you wanna find out how well I can wield a sword with my hands cuffed," Smock threatens, though he hates to be cruel to innocent folk, "then you might wanna do it now."

First the man pales, then he nods, rushing to get something from the back of the room. He returns and gets to work immediately, clamping these large cutters over the middle link. He severs the one side, then the other, and Smock sighs in relief. "Thank y-"

"Guards!" the blacksmith yells, terrified, and Smock tries not to be furious as he runs back out the door, catching sight of a larger group chasing him.

What worries him most is the apparent addition of dogs to the group. The men have no chance of catching up to him, but they do.

Smock hears the sound of a raven, and lifts his head to see Baguette soaring above him. The bird turns down a path to the right, and he darts after him, following his guidance through the unfamiliar terrain. They end up at a market street, where there are still some vendors open through the night, stalls manned by similar folk to those he'd seen at Moosewater. One particular stall appears to be selling plants and seeds, and a sack of sunflower seeds is at its side, ready to plant so they bloom in the late summer.

He takes a deep breath. If there's one raven, the flock is never too far away, not when it comes to him. With reluctance he runs to the bag of seeds, knowing the birds adore this type, and throws it to the floor, yelling back an apology to the startled vendor as he goes. As though appearing out of thin air a flock of ravens descends upon the seeds within moments, creating a wall of blue-black, feathers flying all around. Smock hears the dogs barking at the obtrusion, unsure what to make of it, and the sound of men yelling in agitation. It gives him distance, and for some time he's sure he's made an escape, until very suddenly a low growling noise sounds behind him.

Just in time, he twists around to see the larger guard, and he steps away from his lunge. There's something very wrong about him. When the man turns and Smock sees his eyes, they glow with an unnatural green, like nothing he's seen before, sclera painted pure black. It's like there's an energy coursing beneath his skin, flowing under all of the elegant armour he's wearing, like he's many cuts above all of the other guards.

Smock doesn't chance fighting him. He heads for a wooden stall, one of the non-movable ones with the solid tops, and jumps onto it, hoisting himself up to the top. A hand reaches forth to grab his foot.

Just in time, he leaps from the stall to the side of someone's house, clinging to a small balcony, then climbing onto the rail and up onto the roof. The man starts to yell in a language Smock doesn't understand, but he doesn't stick around to find out, heading towards the castle.

When he looks up, though, he sees Baguette starting to fly to the right, in the direction of the wall. Smock furrows his brows, but he doesn't question the bird, figuring there must be something wrong.

They reach an entrance in the wall, and quickly Smock realises the mistake he would've made - the wall curves straight around and connects to the castle, with no exit, and gets taller too, meaning he would not have been able to get across or jump safely to the other side.

He thanks the bird silently as he jumps off the roof and sprints past two guards, into the forest and towards the incline of the mountain. The dogs will know his scent, so he can't stop, especially not when he hears shouting behind him. Baguette's presence is no longer visible through the trees, so he just follows his instinct, going where he feels a pull.

Finally he slows down, hearing nothing behind him, and takes a detour into a patch of flowers, covering himself in their scent for a while, hoping it will at least save him a little time. He's always liked floral scents, especially those on the more delicate side, so it's not unpleasant to be covered in it. From there he continues onwards, knowing that stopping for even a moment could be dangerous, even more so at night in the mountains.

Everyone in Aldelis knows how the land gets when the sun sets in rural areas, and mountains can be some of the worst places to be. If it's not bears or coyotes or mountain lions tracking you down, you might be quick to consider yourself lucky, but there are worse things taking their place. People go missing often when passing through, and a large number of them are never found. Some people theorise that there's an entrance to the underworld there, constantly drawing travellers to it, but Smock knows that's not true. He might even argue that what lies above is far worse than what lies below.

He finds himself growing paranoid at the environment, hyper-aware of any and every movement, no matter how small, though he finds some comfort in knowing that the land hasn't gone silent. Crickets are chirping where there's grass, and on occasion there's the hoot of an owl. He's even treated to the distant howling of wolves, the hauntingly beautiful noise no doubt filling the air for miles.

As the terrain begins to get steeper and steeper, Smock finds himself becoming tired. His feet belong out at sea or on even ground, not at the other end of it all, getting closer to the sky. When he looks up, he sees the stars shining down upon him. Over the top of the mountain is the constellation Artemis, a group of stars in the shape of a phoenix. Some call it the Mother or Mother Artemis, especially those closer to Gore you get, but Smock has never been able to find out why, and nobody seems to know anyway. It sits over the dead center of Aldelis, right at its heart, like some great protector, holding the sky up with its wings.

Smock takes a short break. He doesn't sit down, knowing that as soon as he does he'll be there for a while. He calls out to his bird companion with a whisper, "Baguette?"

Almost immediately the raven comes to him, as though he'd been nearby anyway. Baguette lands on his arm and looks up to him with that single eye. Along with him, a few others descend, taking up the rest of the space on his arm, one even sitting on his head.

"Thanks for everything," he tells them gently, petting each in turn. A little guilt creeps in thinking about how he'd been shooing them off at the farm, even if it'd been for a good reason. "I'm glad I have you all."

For a while he enjoys the company of the ravens, watching them hop about doing nothing of importance, simply having fun, playing with pebbles. He wishes he could have a life so simple, but nothing ever seems to go that way.

Not only does he have the ravens, but he finds himself in the company of a certain creature. Out from the cover of some shrubs, a little grey animal rolls out, its dumb little face staring up at him.

"Bagel? What are you doing up here?" Smock sighs, reaching to pet the creature's slimy head. Bagel kicks a leg, enjoying the touch thoroughly, and when Smock pulls away his hand he begins to turn all sorts of colours, becoming the equivalent of a neon sign pointing directly to his location.

That's when he opens his mouth.

Bagel's mouth is full of needle-thin teeth, dripping with something that burns at the dirt beneath his feet. It's clearly acidic, and he finds himself leaning away from the creature, anxious that the acid will find its way onto his body.

But swiftly he realises this is a good thing. A very good thing, actually.

He extends his arms, still stuck in the metal cuffs, not having had the time with the blacksmith to get them fully removed. Nervously, he shows it to Bagel, who seems to understand what's going on, and opens his jaws impossibly wide for him to stick his arm into. The first drop of acid isn't close enough to the cuffs and splashes off the edge, onto Smock's skin.

He hisses in pain and recoils, fighting his first instinct to wipe it away, forced to let it fizzle out on his skin. If it'd been in the middle of his arm, he's sure it would've burned to the bone, but thankfully it only takes off the skin on the side of his wrist. Still, he has no choice - he has to get the cuffs off.

This time he's careful to get the acid just right, and it burns through the metal slowly. He has to move quickly as not to have any more drop onto his skin, and slowly but surely the metal begins to erode away where the lock is, again and again until the cuff releases and swings away from his arm. He pulls his arm away quickly, then goes for the other one, this time feeling more confident as he goes about it all, and before he knows it he's finally free from the restraints, examining his small injury with a frown. It aches, but the pain will no doubt die soon. And he has to keep moving.

When he gets back on his way, Smock decides to forage a little. He's not very familiar with the fauna in the mountains, but he remembers seeing his fair share of poisonings as the Archangel of death. They were usually travellers, people hungry and desperate enough to eat something they found in the forest with no hesitation. At that point, he used to figure death was a mercy. Hunger is a brutal thing. Ever since he fell, he'd become no stranger to it. Finally he understood what would drive any person to that point. Alas, he'd been lucky, always being fortunate enough in life to never have to go too long without a meal.

He gathers his best guesses at safe berries, though being an Archangel the most he'll be is sick, which is preferable over dead. They taste good, and while they're not a lot, they fill a void for the time being, at least until he finds Axel. The man claimed to be a good cook, but Ellamia had been convinced he'd put rat poison in their meals, and they couldn't exactly throw out the other cook. As he throws some food to Bagel as a thank you, he watches the creature eat, and then watches it wander off, satisfied, leaving him to his devices.

Thoughts of Ellamia return to him. He doesn't think she'd like the mountains all that much. Her home was at sea, and she took time to swim often, always seeming so blissful like that. Ocean water in the summer is warm, and it was her favourite time to swim. Up in the mountains, the water is always cold, and no good for her. She might like the stars, though - they danced under them often, and once he'd taught her all he knew about them, because when she used to live under the water she'd never gotten to see them.

Thinking of her life before meeting him fills him with a sense of melancholy. Ellamia had been born to a noble family of open ocean aquatic elves, where society was less open and free than the rest of the race. The birth mark on her face had gone against their strict beauty norms because it had been asymmetrical, and the relentless bullying from her brothers and parents ended up driving her away. She ended up on Pirate Island, where she decided to try selling sexual services to make enough money to get by.

Smock's first interaction with her had been her attempt to seduce him, thinking he'd be her first customer. He'd just come ashore with his crew for a visit to his dads, and along the way she sidled up to him, pressing a hand to his arm to draw his attention. The clothes she'd been wearing were pretty and a little revealing, and Smock had no idea how to respond to it.

"You look a little tense," she commented, though he got a sense that she just saying that for the sake of it. "I could help you unwind, for a small price."

Smock stared at her in confusion. "Umm, like over a drink? 'Cos I would, but I've gotta go see my dads."

Ellamia looked him up and down, "I think my body would do much better than a drink, sweetheart."

"Your body?" he blinked. "You're losin' me."

"...Seriously?" she laughed, though it wasn't a cruel laugh. "Come on, stop messing around. You wanna blow off some steam or what?"

"Umm..?" he stared.

"A quick fuck, pretty boy, I can do whatever you like for a price," Ellamia elaborated, and immediately he went very red.

"Oh! Oh, no, aha, no-" he stammered, averting his eyes, lost for words. "Umm, I don't really pay for that. And anyway, my dads are expecting me..." Flustered, he started back on his way, looking back to her with a sincere, "Sorry, and good luck."

Later that day, he returned to his ship and set sail, only to find a certain someone had stowed away beneath deck. A little flustered, he offered her a space as a part of his crew, and she was thrilled to be able to live a more exciting life, one she actually was able to choose, and accepted. It didn't take long for Smock to fall head over heels for her.

He turns his wedding ring on his finger, then, though it feels silly, places a kiss on it. Tears well in his eyes, and that's when he decides it's time to get moving again. It's like he's on air for a while, barely aware of the movement of his legs, watching the grey path in front of him.

He drinks from a clear stream on his way up, the cold water on his hands bringing him back to his senses a little. It tastes amazing coming straight from the stream, and for once Smock favours it over the stuff he drank in the past. On Pirate Island and the ship, they had to go through a whole process to make the seawater drinkable, and since it's all Smock has ever known he's never thought that there would be much better. But the steam tastes clean, and fresh, and natural, and it's perfectly cold. One point to the mountains, he decides, but only one.

The trees had become sparse since starting up the mountain until it had all become rock, but Smock finds himself entering a new part of the mountain, where the trees are no longer great oaks and willow trees and sequoias but instead pine and spruce trees. Compared to the trees on Pirate Island, with their broad leaves and pale colours, these are somewhat threatening, standing tall and covered in needles, like thousands of little blades. He sees a raven perched up at the top of one of them, a sight that reassures him just a little, and makes him feel much less alone.

Smock begins to feel a sense of longing. At this point, it could be anyone: Ellamia, Dawn, Axel, one of his crewmates... anything to fill the silence and the loneliness. He begins to wonder if it's just an effect of the mountains, their tall peaks looking over him like great giants, watching, so far away. Or perhaps he's just gotten used to having people around him, and hearing Dawn's voice, always having something to say. He wonders what she'd be saying about the stars, or the trees, or the mountain as a whole. It was visible from God's Lake, but she'd probably be amazed seeing it all up close. He wonders how she's doing without him, and if she's gotten to sleep okay, wishing there were some way he could talk with her to say goodnight and check up. He assures himself that Dawn is strong and will get through it, and instead focuses his thoughts on her birthday.

There's plenty of time to get a gift, or multiple if he can, and he wants to find somewhere nice to go for dinner perhaps, or to do something fun. He knows without a doubt that some κασέρι is necessary, and adds it to his mental list.

Smock thinks to bring it up to Axel. The man had mentioned some time ago that he had three children, two sons and a daughter, though he didn't speak very much of them despite the love in his voice when he did. Perhaps he'd have some good birthday ideas for a sixteen year old that he could share.

It must have been hours of walking before Smock finally stumbles upon the landmark he'd been anticipating the most: the temple. As soon as he realises what he's looking at, his stomach fills with a churning feeling unlike any he's felt before, a very certain kind of unease that spreads through his entire body like a wildfire.

Made with dark grey and black stone is a tall building with a grand dome making up most of the roof. It's composed of multiple pillars and the architecture involves many elegant arches. The entrance has no door, and so Smock walks right in, gazing in awe at the scenery around him, recalling years upon years of familiarity with it. There are some benches near the back for seating, usually where people would come to consult the most devout and ask for their advice, however there's a large space at the front where most people would pray on their knees, facing a great statue.

There stands a woman, her eyes covered by a veil, wearing an elegant dress that flows beautifully around her figure, draping all across the floor at her sides. Her hair is long and straight, and her hands cup the face of a figure standing before her, also facing the rest of the temple. They resemble her in some ways, with their similar veil and their long robes, though their lips and nose are larger, and their figure slimmer. They have six wings sprouting from their back, the top set spread outwards, the middle half-furled, and the bottom curled inwards.

Smock is staring at the face of his true monarch, the Raven Queen, and Azrael, the Archangel of death.

Feeling a crushing sense of loneliness, he takes to his knees, staring up at her covered face. He's never seen what's underneath, nobody has, yet he can't help but wonder if she's like him, if perhaps she has round black eyes and thick lashes, and if her hair falls over her forehead the same way his does.

"Please," he whispers to the statue, "where are you?"

Smock waits there for some time, waiting for an answer, but slowly he understands none is coming. He begins to notice little things he hadn't in his wonder, like the chips and cracks in her part of the statue, and in the rest of the building. Windows that used to allow in only a little light, keeping the place always covered in a comfortable shade, are now cracked, letting in glimpses of the moonlight where it would otherwise be pitch black. A little moss has wormed its way onto the walls and floor, some brave weeds even slipping through the cracks, some accompanied by small black flowers.

Most people would not know to look for it, but behind the statue is a gap that leads to a back room. You have to step over the flowing dress to reach it, and Smock can see where the top of the stone is scuffed from trips, but he knows better and goes about it with ease. The door is old and unlocked, and so it opens easily for him, welcoming him in to a private room that only speakers and the most devout would usually access. It was mostly used for breaks but also serves as a storage space as well as a place to rest, though that was not information just everyone knew. Some of the more involved followers of the Raven Queen didn't quite strike lucky, especially those a part of the exceptionally rare race known as raven elves that inhabited her domain and came to Aldelis to serve her, and as a result needed the temples as a place of rest, especially as those from her realm were nocturnal.

Smock searches through the drawers trying to find something to lie on, and eventually finds an old bedroll. It's moth-bitten but it'll do just fine, so he shakes off the dust and checks it for spiders before laying it down. He uses his coat as a blanket, and with relief manages to fall into a deep sleep, the temple making him feel so truly safe.

His dreams are far from safe, however. Tonight he flies over the serpent yet again as it winds and dances in the water, its elegance a harsh contrast to its terrifying appearance. The eel in his claws is completely limp and devoid of life, its dead eyes cast downwards towards the creature, watching it move eternally, unable to pry its gaze away. Despite how intimidating the serpent is, this time he feels drawn to it, and so he slows down in his flight, flying in pace with it rather than trying desperately to escape it, even swooping a little lower to observe it closely.

While there are long spikes protruding from all over its body, it seems to also have smaller ones sticking out, much like the thorns of a rose, hooked and honed to a fine point. A little blood seems to flow into the water from them like ribbons, dissipating into the vast body of water within moments of emerging, though the constant stream of it keeps it coming. Smock wonders if the creature is in pain, but it doesn't seem agitated at all.

Its body disappears under the water completely, and a similar sound emanates from it to his last dream, though a little different, as though the creature has not yet gotten the hang of it, and all of a sudden he sees something coming rapidly from beneath the waves, up towards him.

He tries to flap his wings harder and fly faster, but there is nothing he can do but watch as he finally sees the creature's face. It's long and narrow, scarred deeply, with a missing eye and the other a pure white. Its teeth are like needles, thin and sharp, as it opens its serpentine mouth at him. He stares down into the blackness of its throat until it's all he can see.

Then, he wakes up.

Smock sits upright immediately, sweating. He can't get the image of the creature's mouth out of his head for a while with its teeth as thin as those pine needles but semi-transparent like those of a deep sea creature. Its missing eye looked as though it were forced out by an injury by the looks of the vicious scratches and damages to the socket, and just the thought of that makes him shudder. Its white eye seems to stare into his soul for what feels like hours before he finally decides he needs to get up and continue on his journey, taking whatever it was as some bad omen and a sign to get moving before something happens.

He says a gentle goodbye to his Queen and leaves, hearing the flapping of wings above and the familiar caws of ravens.

"Good morning!" he calls to them, even though it's still night time, and they make noise in return, a number of them taking to the sky as they realise he's leaving. Others stay, and he figures they must feel at home there much like he did, even if it's nothing compared to what it used to be. Smock remembers appearing at temples once or twice as Azrael to offer hope to those seeking it, especially when it was a lone person there begging for his help. While guiding souls was his main task, he also helped those that were grieving or struggling with loss, even if he'd never been the best at putting himself in their shoes or understanding their emotions. Helping them just came naturally to him, and above all else it just felt right.

Thinking back on it, he's not sure if he could do it now. Smock has always lacked the ability to put himself in others' shoes, but from experience he understands their pain now, having been through it. As an Archangel he could only get it on a level of 'this person is upset and requires help or comfort', and in many ways that was a good thing. Most hours of his life then had been spent with the dead or bereaved, so constantly feeling others' pain would be more of a setback than anything, and the last thing he'd want is to be reset. In his lifetime, he'd never seen an Archangel be reset, though he had seen angels subjected to it, having been personally present for a few.

They submerge them in a pool in the aether and they come back brand new, like it's their first day of existence all over again. From there, they'd go straight back to work. From the whispers of other angels he'd heard that it erases their memory and attachments to others, which is typically the cause of the defectiveness that warrants a reset to begin with. For an Archangel he hears it's more intense, and that their God has to teach them their duties all over again.

Michael once told him that Lucifer had been reset before, but it was spoken more as a threat than education, and so he didn't bother to ask for elaboration. Besides, it seemed that the subject was a little unpleasant, and he always felt out of place with his siblings - the last thing he wanted to do was worsen that distance with uncomfortable questions.

Guess it didn't matter in the end, though, he looks uneasily to the ground, watching his feet move. He wonders if maybe he could've saved the Raven Queen if he never fell, if he'd never been such a burden, if Michael...

He casts his gaze up to the stars again. They've moved now, and he wonders if he's strayed into early morning. There's not yet a glow of sunrise on the horizon, but he hopes he might be able to see it. Being so high up, he's got a brilliant view over the Wolf's Woods as he walks near the edge, away from the trees, able to see all the way out to the ocean. It looks serene out there, and he can make out the very faint glow of lanterns on fishing boats on the water, though it's hard to see from so far away.

As he walks he notices the trees thinning out a little until they open up into a clearing, where the ground begins to become more covered in grass. Before him is a cabin, made of spruce wood, with a rocky path leading to its door from the one trodden into the ground. Opposite, on the other side of the grassy road, is a crystal-clear pond, right on a cliff-edge that drops for what must be a mile down the side of the mountain. The cabin itself doesn't look like it's in the best condition, with twigs scattered over the roof and a few uneven tiles, and pine needles scattered around outside. There's a pile of wood by the steps to the front door that seems mostly untouched, and there's no light coming from inside, though a single lantern is lit on the upper floor balcony. The decking sits upon a foundation of cobble and wooden beams, with slightly worn wooden rails that connect in the corners to the roof.

This must be it.

Smock ascends the steps onto the decking. There's two wooden rocking chairs set up next to a window, overlooking the rest of the clearing, with a table between them. When he grabs the doorknob, he feels that the door isn't locked at all, and so he simply walks in. It's so dark inside that he decides not to close it behind him, struggling to see anything at all past the strip of moonlight that it provides. He can make out a fur carpet next to a fireplace, but apart from that, it's pitch black.

Though it's disorientating, he enters into the darkness, depending on his eyes to adjust. He extends a hand to try feel where he's going, and his fingers brush against what feels like the lower column of a staircase. He goes up onto the first step, and on the first landing sees a slight glint of silver before footsteps and a tall figure sprint down the stairs at him.

Strong arms throw him to the ground but he manages to crawl back enough to avoid a blade plunging into his chest. He rushes to his feet and so does the other, but the stranger doesn't relent, immediately pressing forth with another attack, swinging the blade. Smock has no chance of dodging the attack, instead bringing his fist down on the attacking arm, forcing it off course. The other makes no sound and doesn't stop, attacking now with his fist, hitting Smock in the jaw.

Smock staggers backwards, pain reverberating through his face. For a moment he wonders if it's broken from the ferocity of the force behind the punch, but he has no time to find out, forced to dart away from the dagger again and again, until finally he manages to get behind his attacker and swings for the back of his head.

They stagger for just a moment, but something comes into contact with his legs, swiping into them so hard he can barely register what's happening. As he falls back into the stripe of moonlight, he sees a long, white appendage speckled with faint colours like some faded galaxy, with huge spikes protruding from it. Immediately his dreams return to him - it's almost identical to the appearance of the serpent.

His attacker lunges atop him, straddling him by the hips and lifting the dagger. Smock swings once with one hand, fist connecting with the other's nose, giving him enough time to grasp the arm wielding the weapon, holding it there, fighting against the stranger's superior strength.

That's when he sees the man's face.

Immediately he recognises him. The changeling has pale skin with a slight pink hue, and over the left side of his face a huge, brutal scar leaves a deep rift. His eye is catlike and pure white, the same colour as his messy hair. He's adorned in a huge amount of facial piercings that extend to the tips of his long ears. Smock has rarely seen him without his bandages, but his right eye is missing, replaced instead with flowers that obscure all but a few marks from a gaping wound. Without a doubt he is handsome and very Princely, despite his unkempt appearance. There's a trickle of blood running from one side of his nose.

When he speaks, Smock is almost relieved to hear that unique accent. "Haley?"

"Axel," he returns.

Axel seems completely stunned as he lowers the dagger, his eye wide. He takes a deep breath, as though trying to recalibrate, and reaches out a hand to touch Smock's cheek, like he's trying to figure something out.

"...Ya alright, Ax?" the pirate breathes, lowering his hands, unsure how to react to the one on his face.

"Haley," Axel blinks, then he seems to come to his senses a little, and he pulls back his hand like it's been burned. "This isn't real."

"I'm very much real, Ax," Smock assures him, then clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, might wanna get off me, though."

Axel doesn't respond, simply getting up and wiping his lips free of blood with the sleeve of his red shirt. He stares for a few moments, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Smock can see that he's lost some weight since the last time he saw him, though he's still got some muscle on his slim figure. He stands much taller than Smock in his large spiked boots, though usually he's only two inches above him.

Smock gets to his feet and regards the man with concern. "Look, I'm totally real. I've been through hell and back to get here, and I probably smell like a rat's ass."

That seems to pull Axel back to reality a little. "Yeah, you do smell terrible. I'll draw you a bath and set up the bedroom for you. You're crazy to have travelled through the mountains at night."

"I had no choice. The ship to Wolf's Rest left at eight," Smock scratches the back of his neck, eyes finding the idly swiping tail. The spikes are lying flat against each other now, seemingly harmless. "Looks like you've changed a bit since I last saw you."

Axel chuckles, then moves back into the darkness, looking around for something. Within a minute or so a small flame appears within the confines of a lantern. It grows until it has a decent glow, and then the changeling begins to head towards the stairs, beckoning for Smock to follow.

Now he can make out the features of the room, he takes a quick account of it. Most things are made of wood or stone, though there's a fancy couch facing the fireplace that must have some fine material on it. Most of the interior is a cozy brown, red, or black, accented with gold, and it is looks a lot better inside than it does outside. The rails of the stairs are fashioned to resemble tree branches.

They emerge at the top of the stairs onto a landing. A lounge chair sits against the protective rail and opposite a small bookshelf is built into the wall. He can see three doors, but Axel leads him straight to one without showing him anything else.

It opens to a bathroom. He has a fancy tub, like the rich folk do, black and lined with fancy red decorations. At one end of the tub is a small hole covered by a cap. Axel lifts it and speaks a small incantation in a tongue Smock doesn't recognise, and just like that a steady stream of water begins to flow in.

Seeing Smock's curiosity, Axel smiles. "I installed a pipe from the pond to here with my friend. It works with magic to flow up and heat the water as it goes. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, that is pretty cool," Smock agrees, watching the bath fill.

Axel lights some candles in the room to offer some light, and rifles through some cabinets to fetch some soft towels and ointments for the body and hair.

"Floral scents, right?" Axel asks, setting down some bottles on the bathside table.

"Yeah," Smock affirms, figuring the man must still remember from all those years of sailing together.

"Great. I'll go sort out the bedroom. I'll be done before it's full," Axel hurries out, leaving him standing over the tub on his own.

Smock can see a fullbody mirror standing in the corner of the room, and he assesses himself in it. Everything about him is a mess. His braid is a little misshapen and his hair in general is a bit of a wreck. His clothes have seen better days, and it looks like the blood from Axel's nose has left them with a couple unpleasant splotches. He decides that he'll have to wash them in the pond tomorrow, hopefully early enough that Axel won't see him in his underwear.

Axel returns soon after, as he said he would, and he speaks a similar spell to the one before, just with a word changed. The water stops immediately and he puts the cap back on, keeping his hand there for a moment to feel the temperature.

Smock tests it too, and finds that it's pretty much perfect, feeling wonderful and warm on his hand. "Thanks, Ax."

"No problem. I'll come get your clothes when you're done, I've left some spare ones on the bed for you to wear until they're clean," Axel pats him on the shoulder.

Guess that solves the cleaning issue, Smock takes off his overcoat and folds it neatly on the floor, relieved that he'll be able to wear something different for the night. "That's real helpful of you, I appreciate it."

"Anything for a friend," the changeling returns with his voice complex, then he takes his leave.

Smock undresses completely and steps into the bath. At first, he feels horribly unsafe, like the water is going to swallow him whole and drag him under, but after a while he gets used to the feeling of the bath beneath him, holding him where he is, keeping anything from pulling him deeper. Still, he makes quick work of it, unable to relax.

All of the ointments Axel has smell wonderful. They have the exact floral scents that he adores, and so he lathers himself with them gladly, appreciating how much better he smells as a result. He's never known Axel to wear anything like it, so he wonders if perhaps they were his wife's from a long time ago, but they smell and feel far too fresh for that. Or maybe they remind him of her, he figures.

When he feels as though he's completely free of dirt and grime, he gets out and wraps himself in the towel. It's clearly high-quality from the wonderful texture, and he finds himself messing with it a little when it's wrapped around his waist, enjoying the feeling.

He wanders outside, realising Axel hadn't told him which room is which. The man's mind always seems to run at a million miles per hour, making him forgetful and having him act like he's driven by some incredible external force. Smock tries the nearest door, and with relief sees that it's got clothes on the bed, and therefore must be the right one. A lantern sits on the windowsill, dimly lighting the room.

After drying off, Smock dons the clothes. They're a size or two too big, but that makes them all the more comfy. Alongside the red shirt and black pyjama bottoms is some red underwear that he figures is for tomorrow, which he appreciates a lot, although quickly he realises this all must be Axel's. He's nowhere near prideful enough to reject clean clothes on account of them being someone else's, but there's something embarrassing about wearing Axel's underwear that he can't shake.

The bedroom is clearly also Axel's. Everything is black or red apart from the wood that the whole cabin is made of, and the bedsheets have the black silhouette of a snake on them. The furniture is fancy and large, and the floor has a huge black fur on it. The bed itself must be King-sized, and Smock takes great satisfaction in getting in, spreading himself out on the luxurious mattress and tucking himself in to the comfy blanket. All of the pillows are perfectly soft and wonderfully cold, and as Smock buries his nose in them he recognises that they smell entirely like Axel. It's odd to be comforted by the scent of his old friend, heavy with blood, but underneath is the sweet smell of flowers, most noticeably of roses. He takes in a deep breath.

I guess after all this running around and living from one danger to the next it's nice to have something familiar, he thinks to himself, closing his eyes blissfully. It's impossible not to nod off, his body giving in to the aches from the journey, and the exhaustion in his bones.

Axel ends up standing over Smock's sleeping body, dagger in hand.

Something is wrong. He can feel it in his chest as he stares at the pirate, pulsing through his blood like venom. All he can think about is the way Smock's skin had felt on his when they fought: so very cold, like death. No living man could feel so lifeless, he's sure of it.

He reaches forth to place his palm against Smock's cheek again, remembering how it'd felt before, how he'd felt the blood rushing around his body, how he'd heard his own heartbeat and how the entire world had slowed down. Life didn't feel real, and still doesn't. He feels the coldness again, and this time sees that Smock isn't breathing as he sleeps, though he doesn't seem to be dead, even when he feels that there's no pulse.

First he thinks that Smock must be a ghost and really did die on the ship, then he thinks perhaps a puppet being controlled, then that he's undead, and then that perhaps he's not even who he says he is in this first place. Still, a shred of him hopes that this is real, that he's truly standing over his friend.

Smock stirs in his sleep and leans into the touch of his hand with a small noise. The pirate looks as though he hasn't slept properly in days, and Axel can only imagine what horrors he's faced to get here. It softens his heart, and as he runs his thumb over the man's soft skin, he finds himself unable to bring the dagger down on him, to end this hallucination or whatever the hell it is for good.

Even if this is a trick, or if it's something sinister, maybe he can let it go on, just for a little while. Then, he'll put it to an end, forever.